


Passion is the Flame of All

by MidnightEternal



Series: Light me aflame [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: BAMF Dorian, Bull is fucking impressed, Bull's a fucking tease, Caring, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dorian Pavus Has Issues, Dorian gets sick easily, Dorian pushes himself a little too hard, Dorian training, Elemental Magic, Halward Pavus' A+ Parenting, Kissing, Krem thinks Dorian needs to stop putting himself down, Latin as Tevene, Magic, Minor dirty talk, Multi, Naked Cuddling, OT3, Somewhat-clothed Cuddling, Teasing, Tenderness, Training in a rainstorm, Undressing, descriptive writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 22:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7483266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightEternal/pseuds/MidnightEternal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian's training out in the rain, Krem and Bull watch for a while, and then, they force the mage to come inside and get dry. </p><p>OR: Dorian's a BAMF, and though they're impressed, his lovers are worried he'll get ill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Passion is the Flame of All

**Author's Note:**

> Another one for our growing OT3, my dears! 
> 
> Casually posting a fic right before my parents pick me up to go to my Graduation. Well. Priorities, much? 
> 
> Plot nug that came from the idea of Dorian training in the rain and Krem+Bull watching him. Dorian isn't used to praise that is truly _real_ and comes without expectations of something more. After a while, his partners get somewhat concerned for his health and manage to coerce him into going inside. Some things regarding Halward are mentioned too, and I'll touch on these in a later fic. 
> 
> As always, loves, enjoy <3

It was like the dance of long lost, forgotten lovers. A performance forbidden and divine. The way he twirled his partner in hand, moving through each set of motions and weaving readily into the next. Poetic, and fierce. The flame of passion, burning, bright and hot, caught in his soft palm. His leg circled: back, inwards, and forward, his arms thrusting his partner through the wind, causing a rush of air, cutting with a strike, a flash of sharp lightning. He gripped his partner with both hands, bringing them back, arms relaxing. His chest rose and fell, relaxed, one breath, two. The intake of life-giving breaths.

As he moved into the next step, with the fall of ice crystals from his partner, he caught the gaze of his audience. One man, powerful and boisterous, towering above another; smaller but still strong. They sat together, on stone, watching from above. Their eyes trained on every twitch of muscle and drip of sweat that ran down the dancer's toned body, his skin glistening in the late afternoon sun. Water droplets fell lightly from the sky, and as the dancer continued, the rain fell heavier, drenching the man's dark, styled locks. 

The weather did not deteriorate him; not the dampness that now clung to the fibers of his clothes, the wetness that flattened his hair, or the miniscule rivers of liquid that ran in streams down his shoulders and arms as he held his partner, turning individual drops of water to ice while he moved, practically twirling on the spot. The first boom of thunder came, causing the man to stop; pausing, and letting his head fall back so he could gaze at the sky. His audience watched, mouths agape, as the dancer flipped his partner in hand, tracing the earth, and pushing them up towards the sky, holding them aloft. A strike of lightning followed swiftly, illuminating the grey skies.

Bull looked at Dorian, studying each movement of his body and staff with a proud expression, excitement and want in his gaze. Krem whooped loudly as another flash of the mage's magic lit up the sky. They grinned, taking their eyes off of their lover for a mere second, only to share their absolute adoration of the man training below them. Dorian lowered his staff again, holding it loosely at an angle, and began to spin it between his fingers, the ends glowing with fire as soon as the staff had made a single full loop. He passed the spinning torch from hand to hand, its flames licking at his flesh as it moved. Flicking the staff into the air, he caught it, and twirled the pole; once, twice, a third time, the storm raging around him and seemingly using him as a focus point. 

The flames disappeared, and he brought the staff down to circle the earth again, cutting into the grass of the training yard with spikes of ice. He propelled the staff out of the circle, and it landed a neat three feet away. For a moment, Bull and Krem thought he'd finished, but they ceased their movements to stand as Dorian raised his hands, bringing them upwards parallel to his stomach, and forcing them up through some unseen force. The coldness of the ice made the air wisp in flowing clouds of condensation around him, floating up towards Dorian's closed eyes. As his hands settled, just below his clavicle, he forced them down again to level off at mid-chest, the rain bouncing onto his fingers. 

Quite suddenly, his eyes snapped open, silver in the growing darkness of the storm. Lightning snapped into existence at his fingertips, glowing fiercely before it vanished, fire appearing at his palms in its place. He span, the robe hanging at his hips floating upwards in the wind, using the momentum to kick up into the air, hands tense, and crashing back down in the centre of the icy circle, forcing a flaming fist into the ground. The ice broke the instant he hit, sparks flying off of its surface. 

Dorian's magic released, leaving the mage kneeling in burnt grass, the rain still beating heavily down on him, mixing with the sweat that dripped down his bare torso. His shoulders moved with his every breath, and slowly, he raised his head, eyes glinting, searching out his audience with an unsure expression. They were standing, Krem gripping onto Bull's arm, both gazing at him in awe. Bull reacted first, a huge grin lighting up his scarred face.

"Damn, _Kadan_!" 

“Holy _fuck, Amor_ ,” Krem said, eyes wide. (Love.)

Dorian’s smile was small, still unused to the open praise he received from his lovers. He flattened his palm against the ground, pushing off of it to rock back onto the balls of his feet, resting in a crouch. The rain beat down around him, reminding him that the night was nowhere near over. He slipped back down, legs folded across each other, and held out his hands, palms upturned to the sky. His fire returned, small candle-sized flames flickering in the dips of his palms. Thunder roared overhead. 

“Dorian?” Krem asked, a note of confusion in his voice. 

The mage responded somewhat slowly, his eyes blinking open. The fire burned steadily in his hands as he looked up at his lovers, wondering when they had moved from the stone wall to the space in front of him, just beyond the line of shattered ice that remained stuck in the dirt. He lifted his gaze to meet Krem’s, questioning, wondering. 

“Yes?” He replied. 

“It’s raining,” Krem said, looking concerned. 

Dorian smirked, raising a single brow. “I am fully aware of that, dearest.” 

“Then why are we still out here?” Krem gestured lightly to their surroundings, “Aren’t you finished?” 

Dorian took in a deep breath, the flames on his hands growing twice in size. “Not quite, _Amatus_.” 

“You’ll catch cold,” Bull rumbled, jerking Dorian’s staff out of the mud. “You get sick easily, Dorian.” 

“Yes, and we all know why that is,” Dorian murmured, a frown etching itself onto his face. He looked up at Bull, and smiled disarmingly, “Do not fret, _Amatus_. This is the norm for me. If you’d both like to depart for warmer and dryer areas of the keep, I would not hold it against you.” 

The fire in Dorian’s hands iced over, floating neatly an inch above his skin, and as quickly as it happened, the ice cracked, lightning springing forth from its depths, shooting up through the centre and bursting out of the top. It was small, and contained, but it was easy to feel the spell’s power. As the spell broke, Dorian tipped his head back, feeling the rain run down his face. Magic ran through him, relaxing and exciting all at once, his connection to the world around him growing stronger with each breath. 

“Now are you done?” Bull rumbled. 

Dorian sighed, taking in one last, deep breath, allowing the storm’s air, tinted with lightning magic, to run over his bare skin. He looked up, entirely soaked; the rain dripping down his body, hair plastered to his head, and a tired smile on his face. 

“I suppose. If I come inside, will you stop fretting?” He asked his lovers, moving to tuck his legs under him in preparation to stand up. 

Krem smirked, “Perhaps.” 

Dorian mock-sighed, faux frustration in the breathy sound. He pushed off from his legs, moving fluidly, rising from the ground. His lovers looked over his form, standing there, only steps away, rain-rinsed, with his tan chest moving steadily, if a little quickly. Bull came forward, and placed a soft towel over his shoulders, it was warm against Dorian’s skin. The mage’s confusion must have shown unknowingly on his face, for his much larger partner laughed. 

“Cole dropped it off a second ago,” the Qunari explained. 

Dorian burrowed into the towel’s warmth, his shoulders hunching in. 

“Remind me to thank him.” 

Krem tutted. “Enough chatting, inside, before you get a fever.” 

Though Krem probably thought he couldn’t hear him, Dorian caught snippets of Tevene curses being hissed under the man’s breath. He easily caught on after hearing the words “Asshole”, “Blood magic”, and the tell-tale phrase “Who the _fuck_ locks their child up?” It was as much as he could hear without reliving the damned event, and so, in an attempt to halt the night from heading in that direction, he bumped his hip against Krem’s, flashing him a small, sincere smile. 

“ _Ne sileas, Amatus, bene res acta est_.” (Be calm, Beloved, all is well now.) 

Krem muttered, almost silently, “-Pisses me off.” 

“I know,” Dorian soothed. “But I have you and Bull now, yes? Am I not safe here?” 

The other Tevinter spluttered, somewhat indignant, “Of course you are!” 

Dorian smiled again, still soft, the joy reaching his eyes easily, “Well, then.” 

Bull held the door to the tavern open, as the gentle and doting man that he was, and did the same once they’d reached their room upstairs. A fair amount of people in the tavern had eyed Dorian up as he’d walked through; all muscle, dripping with rainwater, but Bull’s warning stare had quickly redirected their gazes. 

“In you go,” the Qunari said to them as held the door open to their room. 

Krem ushered Dorian in first, trained eyes catching the slight tremble of the mage’s body. The lieutenant gave a side-long glance to Bull, catching the warrior’s eye. Bull closed the door quietly, and grabbed another towel off of the desk as he followed his boys across the room, watching Dorian strip down as he went, leaving a trail of water. 

Soon, the mage was completely bare, sweat and rain-soaked skin glistening in the fire from the torches around the room. Lit as soon as they’d walked in the room. Bull couldn’t focus on Dorian’s more intimate parts right now, despite how delectable they were, because his mage stood with his lieutenant, small shivers racking his body, making it shudder randomly. Krem stripped off his armor and shirt, leaving himself in his leather binder and breeches, his boots being kicked to the wall. The human warrior took the towel from Dorian’s shoulders, patting at each inch of his flesh with its soft threads. He held the towel in one hand, raising it to Dorian’s high cheeks, and grasping the mage’s face between both of his hands. Their gazes caught each other, unmoving, their chests rising together in tandem. Krem inched forward, too slowly, because the next thing he knew, Dorian’s lips were upon his, soft, and plump, and _perfect_. The warrior sighed into the kiss. 

Bull used that moment to pull them both towards the bed, sitting his boys down on its soft surface. He took the towel in his own hand, moving it to Dorian’s hair, and lightly rubbing at the strands. Dorian broke from the kiss with a soft groan. Bull’s chest vibrated with a growl of affection as Dorian shuffled back to curl against his chest. Bull kept wiping at Dorian’s damp hair, allowing Krem to continue wiping down the mage’s legs. Dorian tipped his head back, leaning up, and brushing his lips against Bull’s. The Qunari responded in kind; ducking his head down and capturing the mage’s mouth in a tender kiss, he abandoned the towel, favouring the feel of his large fingers running through Dorian’s hair. Dorian whimpered, and Bull pulled away, carefully knocking his head against the mage’s. 

“You okay, _Kadan_?” 

Dorian nodded, stretching out, rolling his head back against Bull’s shoulder before curling up on him again. 

“Just tired.” 

Krem laughed. “I’m not surprised! Dorian,” he leant over the mage, nuzzling his head against the other Tevinter’s, and placing another kiss on his lips, “I’ve never seen anyone command magic the way you do. Beauty, and power, destruction and _creation_. It’s...” he sighed, a loving look on his face. “Maker. It’s just so _you_.” 

Dorian returned the kiss with a blush, and turned to place another on Bull’s collar bone. “Thank you, _Amatus_.” 

“If I’d known you trained like that, I’d have asked to come and watch _ages_ ago,” Krem murmured, still hovering above the mage. 

“I completely agree,” Bull added, grinning from above them both.

Dorian yawned, bringing up his hand to hide his mouth behind the back of it. 

“Why’re you so tired?” Krem asked, inquisitive and concerned. 

Dorian blinked sleepily, gathering his thoughts. “The three magical elements: fire, ice, and lightning, are not usually cast in such closely timed intervals. There are few elemental masters in the magical world, and fewer still that practice more than one of the crafts. Switching crafts, or combining them, takes skill, and much practice. One wrong step, and practically anything could go wrong. You could burn yourself, accidently freeze your leg to the ground, or even be unfortunate enough to be struck by lightning. That happened to a fellow from court in Tevinter. Poor moron.” 

“So, you’re pretty damn amazing, then, yeah?” Bull said, grinning wider. 

Dorian hummed, shaking his head, despite his blush. “Hardly.”

Krem fell onto Dorian’s side, playfully squishing him, and then rolling off slightly to rest his head against the mage’s. Bull pulled them back, lying down on the pillows. 

“Don’t lie to Bull, Dori,” the warrior said, resting his arm across the mage’s naked chest. 

Dorian took in a sharp breath of air. “I would never-” 

“Not like that,” Krem interrupted. “I mean selling yourself short. There are literally _no_ other mages in Tevinter that have the mastery over the three crafts that you do. And definitely none that are also Mortalitasi.” 

“You _Athlok-Astaar_? You practice that?” Bull asked, genuinely surprised and impressed. 

“Ath... What does that mean?” Dorian asked. 

“Literally _Earth-Rise_ , it’s what our mages call their skill of raising the dead.” 

Dorian nodded against Bull’s shoulder. “Then, yes. I do.” 

“Fuck, _Kadan_ , I knew you were good, but _fuck_.” 

“Bull, really, it’s not-” 

“Dorian, I know how much work goes into gaining the skills and concentration you need to perform an _Athlok-Astaar_. It takes years of training, of building up your mana enough to sustain life from it. If you weren’t so tired right now, I’d do our usual thing of praising you while I fuck you until you believe it.” 

Dorian let a high whine escape his throat at the thought. “Bull...” He groaned. 

“Tomorrow, _Kadan_. If you don’t catch cold first. And then we’ll make you see just how strong you are.” 

Krem chuckled on Dorian’s other side, wrapping his arm more firmly around the mage. Dorian sighed. 

“I look forward to it, _Amoros_.” (My loves.)


End file.
